


If These Walls Could Talk

by narcissablaxk



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Almost Shakespearean, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Possible Homophobia Mention, Power Imbalance, Secret Relationships, fake dating trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: "It would be better if you didn't tell anyone about this."So planted the seed of insecurity, the need for secrecy, and the need for Benjamin Tallmadge to fake publicly date Anna Strong, despite that they both want someone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grumblebee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblebee/gifts), [Nimravidae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimravidae/gifts).



Office parties always made Anna Strong feel anxious; she felt the same lingering energy at the tips of her fingers and the over-exaggerated rise and fall of her chest that she used to feel in dorm mixers, in scholarship dinners, in meet-and-greets. Ironically, she never felt those things when she was standing in the courtroom, or when she was at the front of a classroom, giving a presentation. She had a job to do then, she had a persona to fulfill. But at a party, where she had no pressure but to be herself, it was too much. What if being herself wasn’t enough? What if she made some sort of social faux-pas? Everyone was always watching with too-sharp eyes, with their carefully crafted analytical brains looking for the easiest weakness to exploit. 

She was paranoid that she would give them one. So instead, she lingered at the outside edges of yet another office party at the law firm of Washington, Arnold, and Andre, filled to the brim with well-dressed lawyers, paralegals, and different staff holding expensive drinks, designer bags hanging off their shoulders, all comprised of sharp lines, rich colors, and the whisper of unexplainable wealth. 

“Just drink,” Robert Townsend, junior partner, hissed quietly to her. She glanced up at him, a sly half-smile on his face. Despite the occasion, he was dressed in his usual impeccable suit and dark blue bow tie. “It makes these things a little more bearable.” 

“But you don’t drink,” she pointed out, tilting her own wine glass toward his tumbler full of dark soda. 

He lifted the glass as if toasting her. “I was giving you some advice I thought would be pertinent. I never said I would partake.” She met his eyes and felt the usual kinship there that had drawn her to him at their first uncomfortable office party. Two years later and they were weekly lunch buddies, trading their kale and flaxseed smoothie recipes for their early morning jogs. It was nice to have a friend that knew how to be quiet when she needed it; he needed the same thing from her.

“Touché,” she admitted with a smile, taking a long pull from her white wine. She felt a little bit of the tension leak out of her shoulders as she polished off the drink. She straightened her spine a little as the self-consciousness faded, only to be brought back with a fresh wave when Lee, corporate law senior partner, gave her a sly smirk from the dance floor. Robert, beside her, noticed the leer and nudged her arm with a chuckle under his breath that sent the self-consciousness skittering away again.

“You look like you need a new drink,” Abraham’s voice was as familiar as it was unwelcome. Suddenly, the insecurity was back, with a fresh wave of paranoia. With a grimace, Robert slipped into the crowd, his trajectory taking him to his best friend and name partner, John Andre. She didn’t want to be seen talking to Abraham; the whole office knew about their affair from law school, which, she insisted every time it was brought up, was outside the scope. 

It didn’t matter.

Abraham tapped her fingers with the glass, and she shifted away from him, annoyance at the edge of her mind while anxiety was at the forefront. Nonetheless, she took the offered drink, a glass filled with two fingers worth of scotch, his usual. He leaned against the wall at the outside of the busy dance floor, tilting his head toward her. She could feel his eyes on her. “It’s a Halloween party, Anna, aren’t you supposed to be dressed up?” he asked.

With a tightened jaw, Anna held up the little devil horn headband in her left hand. “I’m Satan,” she deadpanned, motioning to the men’s suit she wore. “What are you supposed to be?” Finally, she turned her eyes to her ex-boyfriend, dressed in baggy jeans, a flannel shirt, and his long hair greasy and blonder than she remembered. 

“I’m Kurt Cobain,” he said like she should have known. 

She turned back to the party, shrugging like she wasn’t impressed. She found this was the best way to deal with Abraham now that his ex-wife was a first year associate in the same firm. Their…she tilted her head over the word…dalliance had been the reason Mary decided to file for divorce, the reason she had gone to law school in the first place, to support herself and their child. But she was talented, so talented that she was immediately hired to the same firm that employed Abraham and Anna. 

If it wasn’t such a delicate situation that she wanted desperately to avoid, Anna would note with her typical cynical smirk that it was strikingly similar to the premise of Legally Blonde. 

It would have been easier for Anna if she hated Mary; it was hard to hate someone in which she saw so much of herself. There was a thirst to prove herself in a male-driven career, a ruthlessness that could not be tempered, and a softness, an empathetic vein that male lawyers would call weakness. 

It didn’t take Anna long to finish that glass of scotch, and took her an even shorter time to brush off Abraham. All it took was a moment of eye contact between herself and Caleb before her bearded friend was swooping in, replacing her empty glass with a new glass of wine, telling her he had someone he wanted her to meet, and guiding her across the open no man’s land that was the momentarily cleared dance floor to the other side. 

“Who are you supposed to be?” she asked him, surveying the thick leather belt around his shoulders in some sort of makeshift bag, the dark green cloak, and the dark brown pants. 

“Falstaff,” he said impatiently, as if he had answered the question several times already. “Does no one in this damn firm read Shakespeare?” 

“Not as much as Thomas Hobbes, I’m sure,” she said with a chuckle, drinking more of her wine. 

For a while, they passed the time trying to guess who everyone was dressed as, giggling into their drinks as their guesses got more scathing and less accurate, and Anna felt her anxiety slowly abate as she got acclimated to the loudness, the music, the several simultaneous conversations. It was after three more glasses of wine that she finally had the bravery to dance, leaving Caleb behind at the edge of the dance floor. 

It was from that vantage point that she spotted a familiar head of blonde hair, done up in an elegant French twist, her dress pale blue. Cinderella, Anna knew immediately, both classy and impossibly beautiful. It was almost maddening, her half-drunk mind thought forcibly, that Mary could be so gorgeous and yet hate her so much. 

She managed to find Mary at the bar, sipping a dainty glass of champagne, when she stumbled off the dance floor. Anna motioned to the bartender, and soon enough, found another glass of champagne between her fingers. It looked like it belonged to a doll in her unwieldy hands, and Anna pushed down a wave of insecurity as her eyes caught Mary’s, soft, feminine, and just more than a little surprised to see her. 

“Ms. Strong,” Mary said, her voice just barely audible over the music. “I’m – I’m sorry, I can go –”

“No, wait,” Anna’s other hand landed on Mary’s wrist, and the other woman immediately stilled. Anna took it back, tucking it under the bar onto her lap. “I didn’t come here to chase you away.” 

Mary’s eyes landed on someone behind Anna. “Did Abraham ask you to come talk to me?” 

Anna furrowed her brows, trying to resist the urge to glance behind her to see the man she knew she’d find. “Abraham? No, no he doesn’t ask anything of me anymore,” she hesitated, wondering if she should say what she intended. “I – I am sorry –”

“Please, don’t apologize,” Mary interrupted. Anna, who didn’t have the courage to look at her during her apology, managed to bring her eyes up to her face. Her eyes were closed, as if trying to work past a moment of pain. Anna knew how she felt; it washed over her too. 

“Still,” Anna pressed. “I feel like I should apologize. I made your life so much more difficult,” Mary’s hand landed on her arm, not squeezing but just there, like a silent agreement. “I should have had more self-control –”

“Annie, have you seen Tallboy?” Caleb’s voice cut through Anna’s only roughly sketched out monologue. Mary’s hand left her arm and retreated back to her own glass of champagne.

Anna cleared her throat and turned toward the dance floor, toward Caleb. “I haven’t seen him in a while,” she admitted. “Did he leave?” 

“I dunno,” Caleb shrugged, turning back to the crowd to survey it one more time. “Where could he be?” 

***

Ben had always wondered how tall Washington’s desk was, and was rewarded when the back of his thighs hit the edge, Washington stepping easily into his space, catching his lips before Ben could look back at the desk he mostly saw in passing on his way to the break room for coffee. As it was, Ben hardly saw Washington – founding partners were always insanely busy, stalking through the bullpen with a look of determination and a little bit of controlled arrogance. The only one of the three mythical men Ben had any contact with was Arnold; as a second year associate, he was assigned to a senior partner to shadow. He had hoped, no, prayed for Washington, not just because he was stupidly handsome, but because of the rumors that surrounded him. 

Washington was an intimidating presence in the courtroom, hated by several judges and yet his motions always went through, his cases were always won, no matter how ugly they got. He was legendary, the most powerful man in the city that didn’t hold public office. 

And he was rapidly trying to undo Ben’s belt while he lifted him onto the shiny surface of the very desk Ben hoped to sit in front of one day. 

Ben couldn’t help but let his eyes stray to the windows on both sides of the office, unencumbered by curtains or blinds. “Should,” he exhaled shakily as Washington’s lips landed possessively on his neck, “Should we, uh, avoid the windows?” 

Washington pulled away long enough to give the floor-to-ceiling windows a dismissive glance. “Paranoid, are we, Mr. Tallmadge?” he asked, his hands slipping his belt from its loops. “I thought you’d like this, the thrill that we could be caught.” 

And he did, he knew Washington knew he did, because there was no more discussion about going somewhere more private, where they would definitely not get caught. He could feel Washington’s smile against his neck and gave up supporting himself and used his hands to loosen the tie around his neck and unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. When he was finished with that, his hands went to work with Washington’s belt, a move that pulled the man even closer to him, as close as he could get without crawling onto the desk himself. 

But that would be rather undignified, Ben thought almost absently as Washington’s hand pushed him by the chest down on the desk, the other hand expertly unbuttoning the rest of his shirt while he was pinned in place. 

Ben rather wished he could blame this encounter (encounter, he snorted internally) on the fact that he had too much to drink, that he was reeling from a breakup, but the fact was that none of those caveats were true. Instead, he had been dancing with Abigail on the dance floor, content and happy, with a glass of champagne in his other hand, when his gaze met Washington’s, watching from the bar, his glass of scotch newly refilled. 

It hadn’t been an uncertain gaze he’d met; far from it. Washington looked at him the same way Ben figured panthers looked at their prey: calculating, dark, and alluring. It took another dance with Abigail for Ben to work up the courage to go talk to him; he tried leaning on the bar, tried to look as effortless as Washington did, but he was sure he looked awkward, nervous. Young. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Washington had asked, his eyes on Ben’s suit, the one he hadn’t even changed since he got off of work; he hadn’t had the time. 

“Nothing, really,” Ben shrugged, trying to shrug off his nerves. “Arnold kept me late, so I didn’t have time to go change. And….” he let his eyes trail down Washington’s silhouette, trying to hazard a guess at his costume. “What about yourself?” 

Washington leaned closer to him, close enough that Ben could feel his breath on his ear. “I also worked too late to wear a costume,” he whispered conspiratorially. “I, unlike Arnold, let my associate go early today.” 

And just like that, Washington was out of his space, his eyes directed to the dance floor, where Arnold, dressed as Captain Hook, was dancing with a blonde woman Ben hardly knew, and Hamilton, Washington’s associate, was chatting up Abigail at the other end of the bar, dressed as the Phantom from Phantom of the Opera. 

Ben didn’t remember how they got from costume talk to rapidly undressing each other in Washington’s office, but he wasn’t about to question it. He was too busy trying to find a way to keep his hands focused long enough to undo the buttons of Washington’s shirt, hindered by the tie that was too high for him to reach while he was still pinned to the desk. 

He had just managed to get to the tie when a gentle knock on the door sent them both reeling in opposite directions. Washington, annoyed, pulled his shirt over his almost bare chest and turned toward the door to his office. A tall, lanky man stood with his back to the door. 

“What?” Washington practically growled. Mercifully, the man still didn’t turn around, and Ben took that time to button up his shirt and retrieve his belt from the floor. 

“I don’t want to disturb, sir, but Arnold is looking for his associate,” the man said, his voice lilting with a French accent. “He has started peeking into offices.” 

“Thank you, Gilbert,” Washington dismissed him with a simple dip in his voice, and the man slipped away, into the darkness of the hallway. “My assistant,” he said to Ben’s questioning look. “You better go,” he said, pressing another kiss to Ben’s mouth. “And….and it might be prudent to not mention what happened here, tonight.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, fastening his belt. 

***

“I swear, I don’t know how you ever put up with Richard,” when Mary laughed, her whole face lit up, her cheeks flushed pink with either mirth or champagne, Anna couldn’t tell. “Every time he gets even a little disappointed, it’s like you committed treason.” 

For some reason, probably the wine, that was hilarious. Anna doubled over, laughing, her hand holding onto Mary’s arm so she could stay upright on the barstool. Mary’s hand settled over her own to steady her, but even when Anna straightened up, Mary’s hand stayed there, over her fingers, soft and warm and smelling vaguely of roses. 

“We need more champagne over here,” Mary motioned to the bartender, her smiling eyes still on Anna. 

“No, no we don’t,” Anna giggled, leaning onto Mary’s arm. “We’ve really had quite enough.” 

“No we haven’t,” Mary’s hand came free of Anna’s to cover her mouth. “More, barkeep!” 

Anna wasn’t so drunk that she didn’t know that bartender was probably either very amused by their drunken behavior or incredibly annoyed, but curiously enough, she’d had enough alcohol that she didn’t really care anymore. Instead, what mattered most was the way Mary was looking at her, the smile gone from her face but still shining in her eyes. Very gently, she pulled Mary’s hand from her mouth, holding it in her other hand tightly.

“If I didn’t know any better,” and she truly didn’t at this point, she was just guessing, “I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk.” 

“Oh sweetie,” Mary’s grin was swiftly back. “You’re already drunk.” She gently extricated her hand from Anna’s to place it on the side of her face, and into her hair, long fallen out of her bun. 

Anna wasn’t sure how it happened, or even who initiated it, but she was momentarily lost in her drunk thoughts before she realized she and Mary were only a breath apart. Immediately, as if she feared it to be a mirage, Anna closed the space between them, gently kissing Mary’s lips, leaning into Mary’s hand on her cheek. 

When she pulled away, she could still smell roses and champagne, and she remembered thinking that this was the most luxurious experience of her life, like wrapping yourself in silk and letting the material wash over you in waves of tantalizing comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben asks Anna for help, and Anna is forced to prove that their "relationship" is real.

As accustomed as she was to early rising, Anna’s eyes still fluttered open at 7 a.m. the next morning, in spite of her hangover, in spite of her desperate attempts to forget what last night had entailed and the potential embarrassment it could bring. Still, she was wide awake, the throbbing in her head a steady beat that couldn’t lull her back into dreamland. Instead, she was forced to sit up, her head in her hands, her hair falling around her shoulders and subsequently shielding her eyes from the early morning sun. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, her mind tracing over the previous night without lingering too long on that one bit she didn’t want to think about, before she was roused from her reverie by a knock at her front door. With a groan, she heaved herself to her feet, grabbed her robe from the little hook by her bedroom door, and slipped the satin material over her shoulders. 

She just barely caught a glimpse of pink, glittery lipstick on the inside of her wrist as she reached for the front door. Mary’s lipstick. 

“I figured if anyone needed a bone dry, no foam cap, it would be you,” Ben’s voice was just slightly raspy, a reaction to alcohol, and Anna gratefully took the cardboard to-go cup. “Want to go outside? Walk through the park and talk?” His eyes landed on Anna’s robe; he raised his eyebrow. “After you change, of course.” 

Anna surveyed her friend, dressed in pressed khakis, a dark blue v-neck shirt and a dark green sweater with leather elbow patches. He looked his usual self, but there were bags under his eyes, an extra tussle to his hair that wasn’t usually there. His smile was encouraging, almost teasing, but his eyes were worried. 

She took a sip of the scorching liquid, hissing as it burned her tongue. “Why do I have a feeling this is important?” she asked. 

“I don’t usually pull a hungover Anna Strong from her bed on a Saturday morning,” Ben acknowledged. “Only when I have something to discuss with her.”

“She understands, begrudgingly,” Anna tossed over her shoulder on her way to her bedroom. “Grab a croissant from the bread box,” she added as she heard him step farther into her home. “One for me too!” 

Ben had the croissant in question ready for her when she emerged from her bedroom, her long hair tied into a high ponytail and her jogging clothes firmly in place. He passed it to her with a raised eyebrow. 

“We going jogging?” he asked. 

“Shut up, I need to do laundry,” she grumbled, tearing a piece of the croissant and staring at it before putting it in her mouth. Ben stared at her while she chewed pensively, as if trying to decide if she made a good decision in eating. “I thought you were taking me to the park,” she said pointedly. 

***

“So…I finished my croissant almost a quarter of a mile ago,” Anna said, her eyebrows raised. “Are you going to tell me why you asked me into the sunlight so early on a Saturday? Or am I supposed to just guess?” 

Ben chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Finally, her curiosity and her concern piqued, Anna grabbed his arm and stopped him. They paused in the middle of the walkway, the occasional jogger slipping past them like a phantom breeze while she studied his face. 

“Ben,” she coaxed. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

He nodded, but still didn’t speak. Anna wanted to let him find the words himself, she truly did, but at this point, she was nervous, and when she got nervous, she started talking. 

“Come on, what did you do?” she asked, nudging her friend in the arm. “Did you get too drunk last night at the Halloween party? Did you misnumber the pages on one of Arnold’s briefs and you need me to sneak into his office and replace it?” Ben laughed for real this time, the sound rich and comforting, and Anna relaxed a little. “Did you,” she drew out the word, casting her mind around for a possible explanation, “did you drunk dial one of those little old lady clients that keep coming to you for frivolous lawsuits so they can see you in your tight pants?” he rolled his eyes. What, did you sleep with Arnold, _finally_?” 

The laughter halted, almost frighteningly fast, and Anna had to slowly bring her eyes up from her coffee cup to Ben’s bright red face. “Benjamin Francis Tallmadge, you _didn’t_!” 

“You’re right, I didn’t – ”

“How dare you get my hopes up like that –”

“But I did…I did maybe, sort of hook up with one of the name partners –”

Her screech of glee shook some birds from the tree nearest them. Ben grimaced at the sound, covering his still blushing cheeks with his free hand. “But it wasn’t Arnold?” she needled. “You’ve been crushing on that man since he laid eyes on you.” 

“No, not Arnold.”

“Then…Andre?” Anna guessed. “Because I was pretty sure he was hooking up with Robert –”

Very slowly, Ben shook his head again. 

“Benjamin _fucking_ Tallmadge –”

“That’s not my middle name –”

“You hooked up with George Washington?” she was borderline screeching again, and this time, Ben covered her mouth with his hand, shushing her as a biker turned his head to better hear her as he sailed by. “I’m sorry,” she said against his hand. “I’ll behave.” He lowered his hand from her mouth, his eyes still squinted, as if waiting for her to start yelling again. “So…how was it?” 

He glanced away from her, as if trying to find the right words for question he never thought she’d ask. “It was…well…” he chuckled slightly, a breathy exhale that Anna jumped on. 

“That good, huh?” she asked with a smirk. 

He didn’t answer. She considered his face closely for a moment, catching sight of a lot more than just embarrassment and giddiness on his face. Finally, he turned back to her, spotted a bench not far off, and directed her to it. 

“If it was good, then what’s the problem?” she asked. 

“He – he asked me to keep it a secret,” Ben admitted, worrying his lip between his teeth. “But…” 

“But you’re terrible at keeping secrets,” Anna finished. “That presents a problem.” 

“It does,” he said leadingly, just enough that Anna furrowed her brow, trying to decipher his meaning. “But I figure you can help with that.” 

“Me?” Anna asked. “I – I don’t understand –”

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend,” Ben said it so fast, the words so muddled, that Anna had to ask him to repeat himself several times before the statement sunk in. Even after that, she struggled to find the right words that weren’t rude. 

“Ben, I’m not sure I can,” she said honestly. “I mean…what will Abe say?” _What will Mary say?_ “And Caleb?” 

“I’ll tell Caleb so he’ll keep his mouth shut,” Ben waved off his best friend’s name. “And who cares what Abe says? I thought you were done with him?” 

“I am!” 

“Anna,” he reached for her hands, settling on only one of them when the other one brought her coffee to her mouth. “I’m a much better actor than I am a liar. I can’t let this – indiscretion – ruin my possibility to become junior partner. If those lawyers know that I’m…” 

“That you’re gay,” Anna finished for him, feeling an ache in her chest. Self-consciously, she wiped her wrist, still stained slightly pink, onto her tights. 

“It’s a weakness they can exploit,” Ben finished. “Please, Anna.” 

There were so many things Anna wanted to say. How could this weakness cripple his career if Andre, Arnold, and Washington obviously had no trouble indulging in dalliances with other men? How could Ben think this would keep him from upward mobility? But even as she thought it, she understood her own situation, a harsh reality she didn’t want to think about: while Ben could probably survive that scandal unscathed, she and Mary would not. There was a distinct difference in the acceptance of two men in a relationship than two women, especially in their profession. 

Two women together was frivolous, was done for attention, and was definitely a cause for ridicule. 

She couldn’t do that to Mary. 

“Fine,” she relented, squeezing Ben’s hand before extricating it. “But we tell Caleb and Robert, and that’s it.” 

“Deal,” Ben said immediately. “Thank you Anna, you’re the best.” 

“Best friend,” she said firmly. “But I suppose I can be the best girlfriend too.” 

***

Monday came far too quickly for Anna’s taste; she felt like she was getting ready for the first day of school. Nerves coiled in her belly all the way to her chest, enough that the steady increased rate of her heartbeat felt like a harsh kick drum. She had to put her coffee in a travel mug, her hands already too shaky for her to, with good conscience, add more caffeine to the disaster recipe. 

Ben met her downstairs, his tie perfectly knotted, his hair perfectly coiffed. Anna felt, momentarily, slovenly standing beside him. 

“You look great,” he said quietly to her. “Don’t be nervous.” 

“Who said I was nervous?” Anna asked bitingly, her eyes fixed on the elevator. 

“You’ve completely bit all of your lipstick off your bottom lip,” he replied. “You do that when you’re anxious.” 

“Oh, how boyfriend-y of you to say,” she answered sarcastically, already fishing in her purse for her lipstick. He chuckled but did not answer her, and it wasn’t until the silence lingered a little longer that Anna realized that he must be even more nervous than she was. He hadn’t looked at her for longer than half a moment yet, his eyes fixed on the numbers at the top of the elevator, his hand tight around his briefcase. 

Gently, tentatively, with all the grace of a brand new fake-girlfriend, she took his other hand. 

“It’s going to be fine,” she said soothingly. “Just be as normal as you can. We’ll meet up for lunch in the café downstairs so we can be seen, and that’ll be it.” 

In response, Ben squeezed her hand gently, a silent thank you that she accepted. They stood that way for a few more moments, waiting for the elevator doors to open. As the doors finally, mercifully, slid open, Anna heard the quiet clicking of heels that brought her reeling back to the Halloween party. She had a momentary urge to pull her hand out of Ben’s, but there was no use. There was no way Mary didn’t see them holding hands. 

“Anna?” As if to make the day even better, it wasn’t Mary’s voice that called her name, but Abe’s. “Ben?” 

Blue eyes met brown ones, and Ben raised his eyebrows. She could read his expression there as easily as her own. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. 

“Morning, Abe,” Anna said, struggling to sound completely unbothered. As she pulled Ben into the elevator, she managed to catch sight of Mary standing beside Abe, her eyes still on their joined hands. “Mary.” 

“Ms. Strong,” Mary’s voice was cold, almost icy, and Ben cleared his throat quietly in the silence that followed. 

“So…” Abe seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “You two are…”

“Yep,” Ben pulled Anna closer to his side, releasing his hand from hers to wrap his arm around her shoulder. 

“Since when?” Abe’s eyes were on Anna’s now, a tempest swirling in his gaze that she recognized. Jealousy. Mary lowered her eyes to the floor.

“Since…” Anna trailed off. They had never decided when they started dating. How had they forgotten that important detail? “Since…you know…” 

“A couple of weeks ago,” Ben said firmly. “Isn’t that right, Annie?” 

His fingers very gently pressed into her arm a little harder than before. Still, Anna’s eyes were on Mary, who was determinedly studying the floor. Finally, the door opened on their floor and Mary was able to push her way out, leaving Abe, Anna, and Ben behind. 

“A couple of weeks ago?” Abe repeated. “Why didn’t I hear about this?” 

“You didn’t ask,” Anna shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go….file…something. Babe,” she practically choked on the word – she loathed its usage, but Ben turned to her, surprise written all over his face. “See you for lunch?” 

“Of course,” he replied, pressing a momentary kiss to her cheek. To avoid Abe seeing her blush, Anna rushed off, through the crowd of first-year associates, and was completely unsurprised to hear his footsteps follow her. 

“Anna, wait!” he called. Instead of slowing down, she sped up. “Anna, come on.” 

Finally, as she reached her cubicle, Anna was forced to stop and let him catch up to her. Still, she kept her eyes on the files on her desk, haphazard from a weekend away. She felt him sidle up beside her, as if trying to keep their conversation private, despite the dozens of other associates in the same room. 

“You and Ben?” he asked incredulously. “You expect me to believe that?” 

Anna shrugged. “Believe what you want, Abe, it’s a free country.” 

“Oh don’t give me that,” Abe snapped. “What about us?” 

“What about us?” Anna replied sharply. “You mean…the _us_ that ended when you and Mary got divorced? The _us_ that you couldn’t keep up with because you wanted to enjoy being single? That _us_?” 

“Don’t be petty –”

“Why not?” Anna asked. “You expect me not to notice that you came to work with Mary this morning, and then you have the nerve to question my relationship with Ben? Pot calling the kettle petty, don’t you think?” 

“Mary and I had breakfast together to talk about Thomas –”

Ignoring the sharp pain in her chest at the idea of Mary and Abe on a breakfast date, Anna scoffed. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“Anna –”

“See how I did that?” she asked sarcastically. “I let you do what you want, because we are not in a relationship. You should try it. I’ll wait.” 

“You and I both know that you and Ben have been friends since childhood,” Abe hissed. “I don’t know what you two are trying to prove, but it’s obvious that you’re not dating.” 

“Did you know, Mr. I Know Everything About Anna’s Life, that Ben was my first kiss, in the fifth grade?” Anna asked, relishing in the shock that washed over Abe’s face. “Yep, under the slide at recess.” 

“That doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship now,” Abe pointed out. 

“Fine,” Anna snapped. “Believe what you want. I don’t care.” 

“Yes you do,” Abe’s voice was smug, “or else you wouldn’t be so angry.” 

With a huff that made her nose ache, Anna stomped away from Abe, who followed, apologizing in that way he was wont to do, with platitudes and justifications without any sort of genuine apology. She ignored him, her eyes searching the cubicles and offices for the person she was looking for. Finally, she spotted Ben standing beside Caleb’s cubicle, his arms full of briefs. 

He managed to catch her eye for half a moment before she kissed him full on the mouth, knocking the briefs out of his hands and onto the floor. It was surprisingly easy to kiss him if she kept her eyes closed and tried to forget that she knew Ben when he was too tall for his knobby knees and his teeth had that little gap in them before he got braces. 

Finally, after a moment, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, a laugh escaping his mouth when she pulled away for a moment before dropping another peck on his lips. She hoped he could see the apology in her eyes; she hoped he could see Abe’s infuriated face behind her and would understand. But she didn’t stick around to find out. 

“Real enough for you?” she asked Abe before stomping away and leaving all three childhood friends standing in stunned silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna and Ben are confronted by the people they'd like to protect - Robert is Robert.

Sunlight poured in through the large windows, perpetuating the lie that it was warm outside. From here, the pavement outside looked inviting; there was a fountain out there, happily sparkling with the bright blue sky and the sun reflecting off the skyscrapers across the street as a backdrop. But whenever someone opened the door, Anna could feel the chill seep through and pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. A woman Anna didn’t recognize stepped through the doors, her eyes landing momentarily on Anna, who quickly dropped her gaze to the table, tapping her foot quietly.

She felt like people were staring at her; she had felt those phantom eyes all day, ever since she kissed Ben in front of the entire office. It was a stupid, hot-headed decision, and she regretted it the moment it happened. Just thinking about it made her want to go into the bathroom and not leave until she knew the building was empty.

Her anxiety was at an all-time high, and it didn’t help that she was insistent on keeping her lunch date, if only to make it up to Ben. She picked absently at the cuticles on her left thumb. 

“Pineapple strawberry smoothie, as requested,” Ben slid the pink drink into her vision, giving her a bracing smile when she immediately tilted the straw to her mouth. “And your usual roast chicken salad.” 

“Have I apologized for what I did this morning?” Anna asked in a rush when she realized her smoothie was too cold to slide up the straw without trouble. “I feel like I haven’t apologized.” 

Ben chuckled, taking a sip of his purple Vitamin Water. “You have apologized, several times. I already told you, I’m not mad. You did what you had to do.” 

She tapped the straw to her smoothie. “I should have asked you first –”

“Anna, it’s fine, really,” Ben insisted, a little sharper than before. “Besides, I think it helped. Caleb says the whole office is talking about it, but…you know,” he hesitated, seeing the way Anna’s face blanched, “in a good way!” 

“You’re sure?” Anna said cautiously, her eyes flickering to the table of first year interns, their heads of cookie-cutter haircuts close together, obviously whispering. “Because those frat boys are suddenly reminding me of suburban moms in Setauket.” 

“They’re probably talking about how hot you are,” Ben reassured her, shrugging with one shoulder. “Now eat your salad.” 

Anna picked up her fork and poked it. “I’m not really hungry.” 

“Don’t make me feed it to you,” Ben teased, using his own fork to spear a piece of chicken. “Boyfriends do that, right?” he asked. 

“Shut up,” she hissed. “Someone will hear you.” 

“Good,” Ben laughed. “Your boyfriend demands you eat your salad, Ms. Strong,” he said, so loudly the statement sounded laughably fake, directing the fork to her face, where she resolutely closed her mouth. “Anna,” he deadpanned. “Eat the chicken.” 

“You eat it.” 

“Eat the damn chicken, or so help me –” 

“Mr. Tallmadge,” the deep voice made Ben jump so sharply he almost knocked over Anna’s entire salad, “could I speak with you?” Washington’s eyes were on the fork, still hovering in front of Anna’s mouth. “If that’s okay with you, Ms. Strong.” 

“Of – of course, sir,” Anna stammered, snatching the piece of chicken off the fork with her teeth. “I’ll be here,” she directed to Ben as best she could with the food in her mouth. Ben glared at her, eyes slightly wide, as if he expected her to suddenly change her mind. Anna mirrored his wide-eyed glare and tilted her head toward Washington. ‘Go,’ she was saying, ‘before this gets worse.’

He glanced back at her on his way out the door, as if asking for her to come up with an excuse at the last moment to save him. She could think of nothing. Perhaps their charade would come to an end early, if Washington had no problem talking to him out in the open like this. Anna could only hope. 

***

Washington didn’t speak for a few moments; instead, he glanced around the street, as if hoping the perfect conversation starter would reveal itself to him. Ben fidgeted in the chill, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. 

Finally, he sighed. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend,” he said, his voice dropping to almost nothing at the word ‘girlfriend.’ 

Ben wanted to curse. He knew something like this would happen, and yet here he was, without a prepared excuse. What was he supposed to say, that he cheated on his fake girlfriend? Was he supposed to just tell him that Anna was pretending? No, he couldn’t, telling his boss that he faked a girlfriend would quickly top the list of most embarrassing statements uttered aloud. Instead, he shrugged and didn’t answer, hoping that would suffice. 

“So, what, you just go around cheating on your girlfriend with men?” George snapped, still meticulously managing his volume. “You didn’t seem the type.” 

Ben could hear the disappointment in his voice. He ached to tell him the truth, if only so that he didn’t think that Ben was that much of an asshole. Instead, he cleared his throat and glanced up to meet George’s eye. “I didn’t exactly plan to almost hook up with you in your office. I’m sure if I had planned it, I would have warned you ahead of time.” 

It came out far sharper than he intended, and he could see, in George’s face, that he was just as surprised. “Well,” he said, leaving the word to stand on its own for a few moments while he regained his composure, “I suppose we’re both lucky Gilbert interrupted us when he did, aren’t we?” 

Ben clenched his jaw, trying to keep his face impassive. “Look, I heard what you said,” he said significantly, hoping George would hear past his words. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Your reputation is safe with me.” 

“That’s comforting,” George said dryly, adjusting the lapel of his coat. “I should let you get back to your lunch.” 

And just like that, he was gone, his long stride far less controlled than he’d like to believe. Ben stood out there in the cold for a long time, trying not to shiver. He supposed he deserved it. 

***

After a few moments of sitting alone at the table her faux-boyfriend had just vacated, Anna felt his absence. There was no one to shield her from the awkward stares, the whispered comments behind tilted hands, and no one to distract her. Instead, she ate her salad, trying to manage it in a way that didn’t make her look like a cow chewing cud. If there were so many eyes on her, the last thing she needed was to get spinach in her teeth. 

“I had no idea you were so impulsive,” Robert, holding a cardboard to-go cup of presumably coffee, slid into the seat beside her. “In full view of the bullpen? I’m scandalized.” 

“Shut up,” she said, a smile on her lips all the same. “You sound like my mother.” 

“That’s what I was going for,” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “How is it working out so far?” he asked, lowering his volume so Anna had to tilt her head toward him to hear. “I heard Abraham is…well,” he scrunched up his mouth in that pursed lip sneer he saved especially for Abraham, and Anna mimicked it in approval. 

“He’s being Abraham,” Anna shrugged. “I should have expected that he’d be the hardest to convince.” 

Robert nodded. “And don’t think that your little stunt completely convinced him,” he pointed out. “That boy is nothing if not insistent.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Anna sighed, spearing a cherry tomato with her fork. “Have you heard anything from…anyone else?” 

“Anyone else?” Robert asked shrewdly. “Anyone in particular I should be listening for?” 

Anna shrugged. “No, of course not. Just…I want to know what people are saying.” 

“People were pretty convinced this was a lie at first,” Robert replied, though his gaze was still a little suspicious. “Though Caleb has been talking loudly to anyone who will listen how happy he is that you two are finally being open about your relationship, which he is unapologetically touting as true love.” 

“Lovely,” Anna groaned. 

“No one seems particularly upset, but John told me that Washington was noticeably quiet when the news got to him,” Robert took another sip as his eyes expertly searched the room. “So I suppose Ben’s plan worked.” 

The chill from the open door seeped in again and Anna glanced up just in time to see Washington striding quickly toward the elevators, his hand in his pocket clenched tightly into a fist. Ben stood out in the cold for another few moments before he returned, taking the seat across from Anna and dropping his head to his hand. 

“Well, I suppose that’s done, then,” he muttered. 

“I…I take it that didn’t go well,” Anna offered, as Robert gathered his cup. 

“I’ll – I’ll let you two discuss,” he said, his hand landing gently on Ben’s shoulder. Ben nodded but didn’t speak, and let Robert follow Washington’s path toward the elevators. Anna watched him go, feeling for some reason that the longer she kept her eyes off of Ben, the more respectful she was. 

“He hates me now,” Ben finally said. 

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you –”

“He does.” 

Anna sighed and picked up her smoothie. “Was he mad that you’re fake dating me?” she asked. 

“I didn’t tell him it was fake,” Ben said, pulling Anna’s salad remains over to his side of the table. 

“What?” she asked incredulously. “Why not?” 

“Because it’s embarrassing, okay?” Ben said, spearing a piece of avocado angrily. “How am I supposed to look up at him and tell him that I faked a girlfriend so people wouldn’t know I’m gay?” 

“I find just saying it works just fine,” Anna retorted. “What’s the point of this entire thing if he doesn’t know?” 

“We protect his reputation, and mine,” Ben said sternly. “That’s the plan.” 

“The plan?” Anna repeated. “I thought I was helping you so you could hook up with someone you have actual feelings for,” she hissed, her eyes flickering toward the table of frat boys, their herd number down to two. “Don’t you?” 

“Don’t I what?” 

“Benjamin Francis Tallmadge, don’t play dumb with me,” she snapped. “Don’t you have feelings for him?” 

Ben groaned. “Of course I do.” 

“So you’re completely fine with not ever being with him?” Anna asked. “You’re happy working this closely with him, seeing him every day, knowing that you had a chance, and not taking it?” 

“I don’t need you to spell it out for me,” Ben snapped. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Anna corrected sternly. “You’re punishing yourself for something that doesn’t deserve punishment.” 

“I am not –”

“We can’t have this conversation right now,” Anna said as a familiar head of blonde hair caught her attention. “I have to go.” 

She left Ben sitting there at the table alone, with her smoothie and her salad, and slid into a closing elevator as quickly as she could to avoid the wounded gaze of Mary Woodhull, wondering just how long she could keep avoiding it. Forever would be nice, she supposed. 

***

Forever, was, apparently too much to ask. She had been at her desk for less than fifteen minutes before John Andre slid a folder over her desk and tapped it with his index finger. “One of my clients needs help acquiring some land that the old owner suddenly doesn’t want to let go of,” he explained, pulling a flower tipped pen out of Anna’s cup of pens and sticking it into his long hair. “I’m swamped with that embezzlement case, so I need you to take care of it. Can you do that?” 

Anna was already pulling the file closer. “Doesn’t sound too difficult,” she mused, flipping the folder open. “Just a case of seller’s cold feet, sounds like,” she scanned the file quickly. “We can probably settle out of court.” 

“Good, that’s what I like about you, Ms. Strong,” Andre said, pulling the pen out and putting it back where he found it. “You see the purpose and benefit of settlements.” 

“Yes, sir,” she said modestly as he moved to walk away. 

“Oh,” he paused, and turned around. “I assigned Mary Woodhull to this case,” he said. “She’s up on the rotation of first years. Think you can show her how it’s done?” 

Anna gave him a pinched smile. “Of…of course.” 

Mary came by her desk a short while later, her arms laden with briefs. “The top one is the DeYoung case,” she said coolly, setting the pile down to drop the offending folder onto Anna’s desk. “Feel free to update my calendar for any meetings when you need me.” 

It was so perfunctory, so cold, that Anna couldn’t help herself. “Wait, Mary, please.” 

She obliged, but there was a crease in her eyebrows that Anna didn’t like. “Anything I can help you with, ma’am?” 

“You don’t –” Anna hesitated, unsure of how to begin, or even end. What could she possibly say? “Things don’t need to be…you know…”

“For a well-spoken lawyer, you seem to be having some serious trouble,” Mary noted. “Should I come back later?” 

“Stop that,” Anna snapped. “Things don’t have to be awkward. We can still work together.” 

“You mean you can remain professional after you made me complicit in your infidelity?” Mary asked. “That’s not surprising.” 

Anna had to bite back a retort that she would surely regret. “If it’s worth anything, I don’t regret what happened.” 

Mary fixed her with a cold glare and a clenched jaw before she muttered, “Lucky you.”


End file.
